Parson Thru II

Writing is a means of subverting my life.
2012 Outpourings. All works Copyright Kevin Buckle 2012

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Wednesday Morning Part 2

“Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God” protect the innocent

My head is wild with mustangs storming over prairie grass

7 June, 4pm

Diagnosed myself with grotesque tiredness and loss of interest. Wind blows the leaves endlessly outside. Conspiring whispers in billowing green. This is summer. Rain lashing,

A glimpse of Paradise

Until early summer fully dresses the trees, from the windows of our flat I see the kind of sunsets that I used to dream of.

A place they call home

Rubber on the road Blood on the tracks I'm in the same town as my bed

Abraham Jones - Pt 2

Continuation from part 1 (Parson Thru I collection - Aug 2011).

Abraham Jones - Pt 3

Abraham Jones opened his eyes.

Accidental voyeur 1

She stood in the kitchen ironing Dark hair neatly combed back Tumbling on gently squared shoulders

Accidental voyeur 2

Stephan walked out of the room in his shorts as I stirred from my sleep on the bone-aching floor (updated)


Book early!

Archangel Gabriel

Carried aloft by the shining angels of landfill (updated)

Baking hot days with mother

Standing in me shorts (1) 20 years on.

Baltic night

On crossing the frozen Baltic. Tallinn to St Petersburg.


As heard from my bedroom


I had a cat named 'Blue' rhymed with Kalamazoo Grey with stripes a tabby My mother hated cats a family thing One suffocated a child allegedly But he was only six weeks old A kitten

Buy me a horsey

The hidden door. 20 years on.

Career path

Snack-room chat

Chestnut tree

Leaning against the station wall pinching a cigarette.

Cirque d'Obscene

Welcome! to the Cirque d'Obscene where the ugly procure the unsightly and Romantics should never be seen

Como se llama?

Patron saint of lost causes. Who was that?


If only I wasn't so confused I'd give you a piece of my mind But I can't work all this out myself So to harangue would be unkind


The daffodils on the traffic island raise their heads towards the skies and listen.

The smell of honest work

From a distance I watch recall machinery modest men and the smell of honest work (WIP Jan 2012)


A re-write. I think the subject has some mileage, but struggling with the execution.


Feel the sap rising

The Hours in Context

Time cannot exist without context.

Time on my hands

Inspired by 'In the Baggage Room at Geyhound' (Ginsberg).


Today,it was mainly Wednesday.

The Fall

Falling Falling Passing nothing Touching nothing ever again but empty space and air Rushing, deafening air And the ground eight miles down And I know that I’m dying Legs running

So long

Think I'm finally out of ink threw in everything but the kitchen sink (tempted to use everythink but unnatural as not from London and thought it might just cause a stink).


Above the mist, the grey-green ghosts of Polden elms stand silent over salted fields And somewhere overhead a heron cuts a dead straight path to shining ponds from ages past

Funny world

Can't think of anything to say really. Except same shit, different day maybe. But then, someone I know saved a life today. Or nearly. She tried. But she tries every day.

The dream

Come in Kevin. Thank you, Christine. Could you bring two teas please? White no sugar, isn't it Kevin?

Hey! Watch my ziggurat

Re-posted under 'poems'
Gold cherry

I suppose I have a dream

I suppose I have a dream of some sort. I carry it around from place to place like my own personal Star of Bethlehem.

Sixty Days

I've chopped it all up again!!!

The clocks go forward

I'll be ok tommorrow. Or maybe the next day...

Gittin' along

Apologies in advance...

Self actualising individuals

Why aren't you in the fuel queue?

Dreaming of summer

Sitting on the sofa, dreaming, drinking tea. I’m 5 and perched on a wall in Rawcliffe. The summer street is alive with love, blue sky, brand new bright red bricks


Only fear can hold us back

Tinned fruit

What will it be?

Drop-dead gorgeous

What if I’ve had my day? …it’s finished? …I'm done? No more notes to play? …no other song to be sung? …my race is already run? Pure, empty …silence

On! On!

Foo-Man, 22, blew out smoke shook his match looked me in the eye and said:

The tomb of the unknown poet

The Wealthy have never been so rich screams the Sunday Telegraph from Monday’s stinking ditch


My mother reminds me that when I was very young I gave all my pocket-money to a man who'd been given an accordion instead of legs Forty years on I have to wonder why I still care

Terror in the Glen

RLP's 10 line Challenge


Just playing... [innocence and growing up, maybe?]

Ma cherie

They starve for their art (between meals)

Generation Icarus

Sorry, got to dash...

Stop Moaning and Work Harder

The Waxworks Politician - caricature Margston Thatchill - says Stop Moaning and Work Harder
Story of the week

Dreaming of my dad

I’d forgotten how much he said with his eyes. A man of few words. Happy to sit most of the time in his window seat, reading his paper or lost in contemplation.


Life and loves and reflex motion

In the Blender

Standing in me shorts (2) 20 years on.

Just friends

Just friends, no more and if we pushed too hard it wouldn’t be the same we’d inflict pain and after sex we’d have our first row and everyone would know we’d gone too far somehow

Good days, bad days

Some worse than others.

Friday Night Gripes

Take me to bed. I've seen enough.

Quit moaning

Happy days.


Just had this idea. Is it worth continuing?


Where is here?

Wherewithat 2

There was no one left alive who could remember the devastating waves of disease that had brought humanity to its knees.

Wherewithat 3

"You will starve."

Wherewithat 4

Heti Flaardvoorst walked briskly to the apartment door knowing that things were about to change in a way that she could not control.

Star man

Thank you, Mr B.

Flaming June

Hello summer.

Wherewithat 5

Marthi Flaardvoorst stumbled along the narrow forest track between the two women, Hope nimbly leading.

Wherewithat 6

Amy Orton was happy in her work. Painstaking clerical detail isn't everyone's thing, but Amy loved to absorb herself.

Wherewithat 7

Marthi Flaardvoorst sat in the clearing trying to collect his thoughts.

Open sore

I can’t make you happy. Can’t return the childhood that you lost.

Let's face it

Thoughts on a platform

Living under a cloud

More thoughts on a platform

The test drive

Everyone needs a vehicle and there's a vehicle for everyone.

Shall we open the wine?

Family lunch at the Thru household

Monday, 16:55

Further thoughts on a platform

Foxtrot Oscar

How does that sound?

Marion's hairbrush

Blackened silver plate and matted bristles stare accusingly from foetid water in the shared recycling bin


Revisiting my past and searching for the person inside the shell. Are you feeling unfulfilled?

Spontaneous garbage

Don't blame me. I only typed it.

The Shard

Congratulations on a fine monument


Why would a person want to be in bed?

Send no flowers

Quicky thru the train window.


If you can sit above all the hard work and claim it for your own You'll be a man ager, my son. Profuse apologies to RK Really, really terribly sorry.

Weighing our love

A love poem - make the most of it!

Had a Chianti accident

Had a Chianti accident on the the white wool carpet last night It's OK It's fine now We sprinkled on a little salt used some cleaner and the Chianti's OK

I deleted a poem

Ramblings in a sleepless night


The return home
Gold cherry


Brown and terracotta tiles mount the hill like steps to the shrine of St. Elias


Spread a little happiness (updated)

Memo to Daryl

Keeping one's end up

Lisa, you have a helicopter

Lisa, you have a helicopter How nice Looks like a dragonfy

Season's change

I walked to the station today and my head was filled with gloom

Wake up!

It’s only a poem Wake up! Wake up!

It's a real mess

This was never a happy home and now it's not a home at all

The leaking ship

My heart breaks as history repeats itself (clarified a little)


This might set him spinning (good for cooling in space) **Final verse added

See you all again

Remember to book early


Saw two twisters over our quiet seaside town today, by Jove! Crazy weather. Crazy!

Vortices (less long)

You would be forgiven for hating this. Trimmed and (maybe) improved reading. Maybe you'll hate it less.

Duty and Obligation

Duty and obligation. It's what keeps me where I am. I've got to live a little first. Before it kills me. And it will. I remember the first time I hit London's Underground. King's Cross.

The frustrated ex-pat

Happy Birthday Nicola, Madrid Sep 2012. To all ex-pats.

Up to you

Laugh or butcher each other. It's up to you.

Suspended existence

Seven miles above the Alps I take my pen and begin to write

If only we could remember the poems that we dream

Can you imagine that? To wake and not have missed a single word? I need a dream stenographer. Dream Secretary.

The old part of town

I look down in the old part of town and I see only age and dirt

Luna – ode to a lost dream

Another attempt to get this right

Not too late yet

Don't let them take it all back

Visiting Jack

What did you die for, Jack? I ask as I sit by your grave a long way from home and take in the sun and the cooling breeze of a French morning like you would have known

The Recidivist

Payslips line the walls Addiction holds me from the very first embrace


My contribution to tomorrow's Poetry Day. Acknowledgements as appropriate to the original author. Posting early in case flu takes me before 4 Oct.

Re-visiting Jack

What did you die for, Jack? I ask as I sit myself at your grave-side to rest my aches and pains Liberated from meter (almost) - I may have finished tweaking, for now!

The Flood

The animals came in two-by-two and the sky began to darken


There must be a funeral going on somewhere Miserable day for it

So shall they fall

Massacre of workers' rights: Resistance is vulgar TV is nice The bullet always has someone else's name on it So shall they fall


He swapped a life filled with faces for a head filled with voices


I couldn't sleep tonight for the terrific giraffe coming in through the window upsetting the acacia in its pot and disturbing the elephants huddled like statues in the dark


Cloud's on the ground again

Taking a spin

I hadn’t seen David for a while. Years, in fact. I was surprised when he asked me if I wanted to go for a spin. Well, maybe not surprised so much as delighted.


You tell me that I'm lazy I say that you are crazy

Equal measure

Living in a doorway has its own attractions Sovereign of myself and despised by everything around me in equal measure

Things to tell your mother

Ring her now if you are lucky enough to be able to


No curve of the Earth holds such grace as the form of she who walks upon it

The madness of King Commute

Searching for comfort on Platform 15

Don't look down

Eat your breakfast before it gets cold

Management for Beginners

Management is a game to keep us entertained and occupied between launching into catastrophic wars And lacking suitably qualified people is applied in a Fordist broken-down-to-nuts-and-bolts

Le balcon

Who'll stop the rain? (Acknowledgements etc. to Creedence)


I trod cautiously along one side of the mound, made my usual apologies and poured water from the can over the marble stone. The rain and wind always left a dull film.

Song of the night

I listen as your simple playing speaks to me of decades past It fills my heart and sings its song across the night It haunts me Makes the darkness dance around my bed

The visitor

Strange lights in the sky


Long and lingering on the west coast Changed it again. Scratch, scratch.

The great irony

Toeing the line

Spirit of Africa

Your heart is Africa before the map


Something ends

Sighs of an elephant

I am your life You are my reflection We turn and face the gaping dawn

They don't make Hoovers like that anymore

I thought I saw a Hoover Junior go by Heavy, metallic in the corner of my eye



Hush, Belladonna

Postcard from Berlin.

There she goes

There she goes Driving off in her office clothes

Glide through

Glide through ghost of Tangmere The job is done


I arrived into the office full of the usual start of week melancholy and immediately detected a far deeper gloom already present.

Monday (2)

I laboured through the day.

Monday (3)

I had a thought.

GCSE Modern History Study Notes - Part 1 of 1

Prep notes for GCSE Modern History and Languages

Filling time

They wander about like dogs in the park snapping, snarling and sniffing under each other's tails interested only in the next meal or copulation

Haven't you got any work to do?

Lamentable lament. God's way of telling you it's time to take a shower and make dinner.


Parenthood is the art of screwing up the next generation

The boy who waved at silver cars

He lay in a field and gazed at stars


Time cannot change you

Places to go

I'm one of the luckiest people I know

The Mirror

There is still something in you, about 20 per cent, that stares victory in the face and walks away; that will not recognise itself.

Infinity and the universe

People ask about infinity and the universe: the universe will end for each of us at death and that is all that matters.